


Honey. Blood. Skates.

by yausah



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 11:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21355543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yausah/pseuds/yausah
Summary: “Did you want a battle? She will start a war with you. "





	Honey. Blood. Skates.

Eva exhaustedly leaned on the rink's side, feeling anger and resentment bubbling inside her: no, her coach, who was standing a little at a distance, frowning, had nothing to do with her condition. No one here had anything to do with the anger that was scratching and tightly gripping the throat. Eve's anger was ready to strangle her for every unfulfilled element or falls.

Anger is, for some time, a faithful companion, but Eve could call this felling a friend so loosely. Rather, it was like those toxic friends that bloggers write about on their blogs and make videos. Eve was breathing heavily, counting every breath inwardly, trying to calm down and put things in order, but her head seemed like a copper hollow ball, filled with a million vile rattling cogs and nuts. She could hardly hold back her tears, biting her cheeks from the inside, feeling her back and knees ache. Quade jumps were performed with great difficulty, and falling from them was more painful than usual.

The coach could not stop this racing bacchanalia for quads, and Eva only winced herself each time when she heard about the forbiddance on the performance of these elements. The forbiddance, said in a calm and benevolent tone, angered Eve more than a strict order.

"Eve, are you okay?"

Elsa asked softly, touching her back and feeling the vertebrae under her soft tracksuit.

“She ate nothing again”

"I really like what you do every day on that rink but I offer you to postpone the quads..."

She said again softly and carefully, leaning on the side and leaning closer to the athlete's reddened face, hidden in her hands.

“Now we need to restore your back and knee. Making quads is very dangerous in your condition."

Elsa's patience would have been enough for ten more, such as Eve, and such as Eve in the world of sports - a piece of goods. Every day, the coach, as if in a soothing mantra, repeated these words, sometimes changing them, but the general meaning remained the same: Eva needs to improve her health and muscules condidtion. The coach says it at lunch, at breakfast, dinner, and even afternoon tea.

There were afternoon tea at this rink. It is an unprecedented luxury for Eve.

Eve lifted her head from her face and looked up at the trainer, trying to make her facial expression more relaxed, but instead she felt more like a resentful puppy. She did not allow herself to cry, because she promised that she would never for a single moment shed a single tear. Elsa smiled softly and regretfully at her, touching her shoulder slightly and invited her to the ice as if Eva was like a small child who had come to the ice rink for the first time.

Eve tried to smile. It turned out tortured.

"I already did it. I only need to try again. ”

Eve said in as cheerful a tone as possible. It was strange to smile at the coach, because usually she didn’t. Elsa just shook her head and said:

"Go to the salchow-toeloop three-three, from the program".

Eve just nodded, grimacing internally from the coach’s request and, picking up speed, she thought that she was never asked, she was always ordered. You can dismiss a request, but you will not disobey the order. The skate struck beneath her feet, and before her eyes a skating rink flashed in a split second with colorful flags, windows high to the floor and the bright sun. The check-out came out soft and smooth, and the hands were raised upward, flowing gently over the body, moving into a smooth track of steps that have not yet been familiar. Soft, plastic, viscous, such tracks are not created for speed: these choreographic tracks are created for the skating skills. Out of the corner of her eye Eva noticed how Akira landed the triple axel. Coach nodded approvingly, talking about something with their choreographer.

Eve would hardly be able to repeat even a double axel now. Her legs were trembling with exertion, and her stomach twisted nastily from hunger. She always looked on the athletes of Elsa Stolz, noting the smooth lines of the legs, powerful femoral muscles and an almost impeccable technique. Elsa is one of those trainers who never allows the skater to spin their jumps with back or arms. Elsa is one of those trainers who will not allow to develop eating disorders. Elsa is one of those trainers who corrects prerotations when her athlets were a kids. Elsa is perfecting or trying to do it. If the former coach destroyed her skaters as a soulless metal monster, then the current one was dangerously soft and friendly, but Eva knows: Elsa can be more dangerous and cruel than everyoune thinks. Elsa had another cruelty: logical and practical.

Eve knew that there was a lot of work with her: flutz, prerotation, a bad double axel and a complete lack of skating skills. This jump was always the most difficult for her, although in figure skating it was considered as the easiest to perform. Eve's axel was low and heavy, as if she were just jumping it from a one spot. If someone had told her how much effort it would take to skate difficult programs in juniors, and then in adults and how much health would be put on the altar of victories, then Eve would have laughed. The former thin-boned junior effortlessly jumped an extra three triples at the end of the program and proudly told reporters: “I just wanted to!”.

The adult Eva could barely handle the program until the end. It was hard not physically, thanks to Elsa and her specialists, the muscular corset grew every month, it was hard morally. She waged an unequal battle with the internal demons.

Eve silently changed into the dressing room, folding her skates in her bag and was about to leave, as Akira, who had come in, said:

“Elsa wanted to talk to you. She is waiting in the cafeteria."

Once a conversation with a trainer in private did not bode well, and Eve continued to avoid it.

_Please the coach or die - this is her motto. _

The cafeteria was quiet and deserted. Elsa sat at a table closer to the window. Her blonde short hair were gathering in cute ponytale and even though Elsa was one of those women who does not take off the training suit, she always looked excellent.

“Do you want to talk to me?”

Eve asked smiling, and sitting down opposite. There are a cup of tea and an omelet with vegetables and chicken in front of her. Elsa carefully pushed a plate of food toward her and said:

"Now I want you to eat. I have said and will tell you again: the “no food” system does not work in sports. If you don’t eat, you won’t win".

“I don’t do this anyway,”

Eve could not restrain herself, looking in disgust at the food, but touching the mug of hot green tea. She used to limit herself even in water.

Elsa calmly said

“You lose, not because you are weak, but because you cannot handle with your own mind. You are still the same Eve that you were a year ago, with the same set of elements, with the same magic, what you are doing on ice. Not all athletes are gifted with it, not all athletes are able to carry all of themselves through the program, dissolve in it and fill it with new meaning. Not every skater catches eye and makes the audience sob with delight and scream. You were born with this gift, it is impossible to train. I can give the athlete the perfect technique, but what's the use of it if the program looks like a set of ridiculous twitches and jumps? What is the use of making quads if you're empty?"

“I can't even make a triple,”

Eve said, trying to stay calm, taking a long sip, suppressing a wad of tears.

“They are right — I’m nothing.”

"Who are "they"? Journalists? Instagram experts? Other coaches?"

Elsa suddenly toughly asked, taking off her mask of benevolence. She hated to hear words from athletes about their insignificance, she was offended as if it were her children. But they were her children.

“All of them ...”

Eve said quietly and guiltily, looking away.

“Journalists don’t know what the word "ethics" means,” she grunted, “By the way, and some people don’t have coaching ethics either. Do you know how painful it is to watch sports death? Do you know how painful it is to know that literally a year ago this athlete was shining star on the podium, and now the reality and life is endless injections, pills, examinations, hospitals and complete despair? The athlete writhes, fights, goes out on rink and ... Breaks. Athlete breaks so badly that nothing remains. And there, outside the window", she waved towards the thickening blue twilight and the lit lamps " is real life. What does athlete do there alone without an ice rink, coaches, skates and programs? What should athlete do there in real life, knowing that she or he has never taken off the training suit and she or he feels better on skates than standing on own feet? This is fear, despair and lack of confidence. You came to me because you want to rule your own fate, did you?

Elsa gazed directly into her eyes. Eva hid eyes strenuously, concentrating on the gulls floating at the bottom of the mug. Eve’s ears burned as if she had done a shameful act, as if she had dishonored her coach at the most important programms in her life, as if she had fallen in the middle of an Olympic skating rink, breaking a jump after a jump. Unable to stand the silence, Eve exhaled quietly:

“Yes, that's why I came to you. I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to leave."

"Did we talk with you about this in February, after the free program at the Olympics, right?"

Elsa asked softer, leaning closer to her:

"What did you tell me then?"

"I said I want to skate."

"That's right. So what happened now? All that hatred that spilled on you, no one could stand. Even the most hardened athlete. But Eve, listen, there are more people who love you more than people who hate you. You and I will succeed, you just need to let it go,”

She gently touched Eva's forehead with two fingers, as if casting a spell on her.

“I ... I understand,”

Eve could only say, swallowing the lump and doing everything so that her voice would not tremble from the coming tears. During these few months, she cried as many tears as there were not in all of her twelve years in figure skating.

***

  
In the light of many spotlights, Swarovski crystals sparkled on a black dress flowing over the body. The last words of the announcer died, inviting the two-time world and European champion, the silver medalist of the Olympics and the winner of two grand prix to the ice. A girl who has become almost a legend in figure skating. A girl who is hated and loved with equal strength. The stands froze, staring at the thin figure in the midst of dazzling white ice, dressed in a black dress. The hair is pulled into a tight, smooth bun, and the tip of the tape tickles the neck slightly. Starting position. Half-closed eyes, mouth parted from excitement, heart beating like a machine gun burst. She almost does not hear, does not feel and does not think. Even victory does not seem such a welcome prize.

In the next second, the arms soar upwards, the skates are barely audible, the blades walk gently, gleaming in the light. The speed is so high that the faces in the stands are smeared into a single mess, an incomprehensible gray mass with bright splashes of posters and balls. The heart beats fast, but evenly, breathing is easy, like landing. Eve counts the time to her main element: she is not afraid to hear what the coach will say.

She has not been afraid of anything for a long time.

She only wants to prove that she is still in service and no one will throw her out.

Eve takes off so high, the flight is only a few seconds and again she is in the air, opening in the jump on time, gently lands, her hands describe ballet pas. Feet softly and tightly draw a path of steps, looks like she was born on a skating rink. Eve does not hear the stands roar in delight from the cascade. Pleasant clicks of the metronome are making noise in the brain, counting the final to the program.

  
A swarm of toys and flowers flies under her skates and Eve, like a child, having forgotten, reaches for a teddy bear and chocolates with notes. She raises her head and sees the moving sea, her eyes finally become meaningful, every poster catches every inscription on it, and her mouth stretches out against a will in a broad, joyful smile.

Love is stronger than hate.

Eva smiles broadly at the coach, babbles something and does not at all justify herself for the most dangerous and complicated cascade, which she did with such enthusiasm and ease as if there were no grueling trainings and falls. The coach smiles and hugs her for the cameras, as if she herself was surprised no less than the athlete by an unexpected cascade, but Elsa already understands that Eva will not give up without a fight.

Elsa sneaks a glance at Lina and Walker, who is about to leave, who, as if she did not notice the former pupil, standing with an impenetrably cold face:

_“Did you want a battle? She will start a war with you. "_


End file.
